


dødelig Syk

by nomurk



Series: Lightning and the Thunder [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomurk/pseuds/nomurk
Summary: Even the mighty fall.





	dødelig Syk

“We’ll tap you in if it gets hazy out there. Until then..uh, good luck, bud.”

The helmet of the latest mark Iron Man suit constructed itself over the planes of one Tony Stark’s face as the man himself turned heel and blasted from the lowered ramp of the  _ quinjet _  into the heat of an already heavy fire mission. Through the firing of bullets, Bruce could at least decipher the sounds of Tony and Steve’s very distinct weapons hitting their marks, Clint and Natasha were another story but somewhere within him he knew those two were most likely the safest of the bunch. With  _ him _  out there, they would be that much safer and the mission would be wrapped up much sooner, but without  _ him _  there less damages would turn up. Besides, Bruce had less green matters to attend to until the medevac could arrive.

Bruce Banner is a doctor seven times over, a scientist, an Avenger, but nowhere in his long list of qualifications does it ever mention him to be a godly caretaker. And yet somehow he had been the one elected into the position unanimously. He, of course, was against this action but he seemed the only one to object. No one else wished to be in his position.

Bruce glanced back to where Thor lay sprawled across the entire surface of the seat area positioned practically in the middle of the  _ quinjet _ ; the proud norse god stretched the length of the cushioned area and then some, his head teetering just on the edge of lolling off the edge with the opposite side barely hitting far enough below his knees to keep his feet off of the floor, he was uncomfortably positioned in the way he’d been hoisted by the remainder of the team onto said couch, legs pressed together tight and arms loose, one draped onto the floor and the other with his face buried in the crook of it’s elbow. He looked..helpless. Broken, if you would. His tanned skin had turned ashen and blood dried against his temple from where he’d bashed his head into an unsuspecting metal wall upon falling abruptly. No signs had been shown as far as Bruce knew of, Thor, who had prior to this been standing aloof from the remainder of the team with posture closed off and examining a set of flashing lights, just suddenly  _ dropped _  without warning and had yet to rise from it. It had taken Steve at his arms, Clint and Natasha at either leg and quite a bit of a struggle to get the god as far as the seating area. He was then promptly turned over to Bruce’s hands.

But issue found root in the fact that there was only so much Bruce could offer when his patient was effectively unresponsive. At bare minimum he could at least ensure his ascent to Valhalla would be as comfortable as possible. Okay, yeah, bad joke. Moving on - Thor’s readings were beyond abnormal, where before the god had a temperature that could heat a three room cabin comfortably in the midst of a white christmas, he now sat on the brink of only 100 on the fahrenheit scale and his heart rate fell from averaging 250 bpm to about 87. In completely technical terms, it seemed as if Thor had become, well,  **human** . Or damn well close to it.

Bruce fiddled mindlessly with the communication device that had been shoved into his hand before the team had gone out, intently counting off the number of times Thor’s chest rose and fell, only throwing in the towel once he’d reached a number that satisfied him enough to be content with the fact that he would not abruptly seize up once eyes were turned. He shuffled to the small first aid kit settled in it’s shelf on the wall, plucking it up and depositing it onto the flat backing of the seat containing Thor so he might ruffle around in it for a moment. Quickly the item he had been in search of showed itself and he was able to free it from the organized cluster of various low level medical supplies - a disinfecting cloth, simple as it comes. Bruce brought the package close to his face, as he’d forgotten his glasses back home, and peeled a corner from the tough plastic packaging, managing to wiggle the cloth from the hole before turning his attention over to Thor once again. The sight of such a powerful man reduced to such a lowly state brought an inkling of disappointment to Bruce’s heart - especially this man, but perhaps he was biased, they were friends after all.

Weren’t they? That much on their relationship was a haze as Bruce had never managed to ask him. But he knew how  _ he _  felt about him; he respected him for more than the fact that he could singe all his hair off with one strike, no there was something more behind the face of a young and arrogant god, he was kind and gentle at soul, he had yet to realize it, however. While others fought, Thor and Bruce would be left together - they had spent a fair amount of time together - and one would like to say they’d bonded but Bruce was desperate for companionship, so he could be reading far too deep into another man’s actions. All the times the god had turned heel on a foul mood to smile kindly at him, or returned from other worldly travels with gifts directly from the cosmos or would even hold a conversation with him for the briefest of times, that was all the kindness of friendship. It had to be, what other level of relationship would be represented by such actions? Surely Thor would not put forth magnitudes of effort to keep up fake appearances with Bruce alone, correct? He did no such things for the remainder of their team, he was sure of this, so perhaps they truly were  _ friends _ .

 

“Damn, kid, what the  _ hell _  happened to you?” Bruce questioned the still unresponsive being, moving forward and lacing light fingers over the much larger arm covering Thor’s face, tugging it down to be a bit less in the way. He stared wearily at the wound sight with furrowed brows as he observed the lightest traces of blood continue to gradually ooze to the surface, attempting to clot and prevent any further loss. Touching the cloth to the bloodied wound felt like a mistake considering all the effort Thor’s body had exerted forming that soggy scab, yet Bruce understood it was a necessary evil that could be forgiven. Leaning close enough to the face of the god that he could feel his breaths, and more importantly could more clearly see the area he was targeting, Bruce took the face in one hand and used the other to begin dabbing the cloth against the wound gently. Without meaning to, his brows pinched together at the center and his eyes squinted against the strain of attempting to see past the fog of blindness plaguing them as he continued wiping away the smears of dry blood flowing down the planes of Thor’s sickly face. Once the excess had been cleared and the wound revealed in its entirety, it was clear that the mark would require stitches in order to properly heal. Considering the fact that it had not already mended itself only added to Bruce’s theory of Thor’s power suddenly being absent.

This certainly was a job, and though Bruce was displeased with being  _ required  _ to perform it, he very much was glad he was the one to be tasked. He’d been a doctor for some time before S.H.I.E.L.D. had tracked him down, so it was almost like reverting to before being dragged by the collar back into this whole ‘ _ Avenger’ _  mess. But still, he found it vexing his companions were so eager to provide him with any work that would prevent his coming onto the field, green style. By far they were collectively blatant in their distaste for the other guy landing his feet out there, but anything they could say would appear as nothing against what Bruce himself had already said. No amount of dislike for him would ever match Bruce’s.

A hand snaps closed around his wrist and tugs hard, swaying the still close Bruce nose to nose with Thor. His eyes have creeped open but appear dazed and unsure as they glare up at him, analyzing the features rapidly with an apparent level of wild distrust. Looking but not seeing. Bruce made no moves while staring back at the eyes a bit bewildered, concerned for his own heart rate that had taken a leap higher.

_ Just don’t go green _ .

 

“H-hey pal, hey Thor, are you alright?” Thor softened, eyes falling closed again as he reclined back onto the cushion and lessened his grip on Bruce’s wrist, not entirely releasing him though. “Took a bit of a tumble, had me-  _ us _  - had us all worried. What happened?” No response. Thor paced his breath in these moments, which sounded rather muddled and raspy, until he returned to a more even rhythm. He lowered his hand against his throat, which brought Bruce’s hand to his cheek, still lacking that otherworldly warmth that should reside within the flesh.

Several minutes stretched past them; comprising of nothing more than slowed breaths and near silent gunfire from the battle beyond the ship. Eventually Thor stirred from his period of calm with a few words, so far gone from the usual royal tone the prince bore. “Banner, very pleased it is you here.” His voice had gone hoarse, more grumbled than normal and terrible to the ears. Bruce cringed a bit but smiled as much as he could.

“Well, given I’m the most versed in medicine, I am too.” Thor pressed his hand closer against his cheek and offered his own sliver of smile, but didn’t reply. Bruce continued in hopes of uplifting the mood a bit more. “Clint, I’m sure, would have stuck you with an arrow and called it a day, and he would probably do the best job of them. Maybe you were quite lucky to be stuck with me, I’ll only rough you up a little.” This pulled a wheezy titter from the god. God awful the sound was, yet still Bruce smiled at the fact he wasn’t worsening the situation through words. “The medevac is en route, it's taken a while. They’re coming all the way from New York, no facilities any closer, I suppose. They’ll take you to a S.H.I.E.L.D. directed hospital and figure out what the issue could be. Probably sew you up right here.” Bruce touched his knuckle gently beneath the wound on his head, enough to show where it was but not enough to hurt, he hoped at least.

A thought abruptly struck Bruce that had him sending his free hand to the back of the seating area to retrieve the communication device he’d dropped there. He stepped through the quick process of booting up the system, being greeted with a swarm of gunfire and unfamiliar voices speaking a language he did not understand in the background, then the voices of teammates overpowering them and speaking more comprehensive lines. “Thor’s up, he’s stable.” The line went quiet with Avenger voices for a few beats before one by one each individual threw in their response to the news.

 

“Good to have you back, Thor.” Chimed in Steve.

“Yeah, we were sure we’d have to find a new norse god member before HR caught us on a diversity issue.” Came Clint.

“ _ Clint _ .” Hissed Natasha, followed by a less harsh, “You were in capable hands, we knew you’d be just fine.”

“Point break has a breaking point, who’d have guessed? Glad you’re cozy while we’re picking up you and Banner’s slack.” Was Tony, tone laced with sarcasm as always.

 

Thor rose again, clenching Bruce’s wrist and clapping him hard on the shoulder for support as he hefted himself into an upright position on the couch, groaning once his back hit the vertical cushion. He removed his hand from Bruce’s shoulder to cover the one he had over the communications device and pressing the intercom button with both their thumbs, speaking close to the device. “Where is it we are needed, I shall arrive momentarily.”

“Nu-uh, not happening. You’re red carded, thunderclap, sit this one out, we have it under control.” Tony again, firm with the command. It wouldn’t be beyond considering that he would have  _ JARVIS  _ lock down the  _ quinjet _  should Thor attempt to act on any terms of the mission. The last thing they needed would be a god lacking godliness going haywire and getting himself any more hurt. The statement from Tony seemed all Thor needed to still his hand, as he released the communication device to further lean himself into the couch, still having yet to give back Bruce’s other borrowed hand. “Bruce you’d better keep him there until evac arrives, do what you have to, seduce him, I don’t know but keep him  _ on  _ that _  quinjet _ .”

_ Seduce him. _  The nerve of this guy!

“ _ Thanks, Tony _ . I got it.” Bruce muttered into the com, then mentioning they were going offline before clicking the communicator off again. He shook his head and replaced the item on the back of the seat alongside the first aid kit. Then he was left to Thor. He’d forgotten entirely about his hand being held hostage by the god, who now had rested it with palm propped against his collarbone and fingers tilted on his throat. The heartbeat, still significantly lower than what he was assured a god’s often was, held steady beat that his own fell into line with unintentionally. He examined Thor’s face the best he could through squinted eyes and without drawing too close - he looked exhausted with dark semi-circles beneath each barely open eye, his skin flushed and dull, and mouth tilted open as ragged breaths pulled in and out of his rattling lungs.

 

“The Stark man, he speaks that way, why?”

That had Bruce reeling backward, pulling himself straight up and hand flinching against Thor’s neck. He didn’t quite have an answer for it but he knew it appeared as something more than a tease Tony would hand out. “I..I’m not entirely sure. That’s just Tony, y’know? Always..always joking.” He breathed out a faint, forced laugh and glanced away to the front of the ship where a sliver of the outside appeared through the windshield. What the hell was taking those agents so long?

Abruptly, Bruce was drawn back to looking at Thor through no means besides he felt like he were pooling more suspicions to himself by having turned away. Thor had tilted his head back against the cushion to stare back at him, something fleeting hidden behind the backs of his eyelids, something only he could seem to see. The way he was staring had Bruce shifting on his feet and smiling awkwardly, his own eyes flying from one point to another on Thor’s face, anywhere to avoid his lingering eyes. A long pause filled the cool air between them, one Bruce was sure both of them intended to break but lacked the words to do so. Eventually, Thor stepped up to the plate with a quiet, “There is nothing you wish to tell me?”.

 

“No.”

 

Fast, too fast. That dancing something in Thor’s eyes died out, leaving the space vacant. It stung a bit to watch such a thing, but truly there was nothing to share. Was there? They were friends, teammates, coworkers, they barely knew one another and yet were second to only Clint and Natasha in how close they were. That was sad, was it not? Either way, it would be inappropriate to.. _ feel _  something for a coworker, unprofessional in every essence, so that should be the answer Thor was anticipating. Still, with his hand molded against the curve of his neck, it didn’t feel as though that was the answer to have been stated.

Thor nodded in understanding, blinked long and hard, then cast his gaze back to where it had been locked onto Bruce’s eyes. A more comprehensive emotion rang out now - vulnerability. It made something in Bruce stir. “Won’t you sit?” The question was so soft, he’d almost completely missed it. For a moment he stumbled over himself, then a nod. Of course he would. Thor loosened his grip on his hand, watching Bruce finally retrieve his stolen appendage and move to sit on his right. He hadn’t minded standing, but if this was what Thor would like then so be it. Almost immediately, Thor was leaning into him, pressed flush against his side. Again, Bruce was a bit baffled and took several seconds to respond - this time with his arm prying from beneath the body and draping itself loosely across the god’s shoulders.

Thor practically was bending over himself in order to rest his head against Bruce’s upper chest, his own arms snaking around his waist and feet crossed over Bruce’s own legs. It was a bit uncomfortable for him, but considering Thor had stilled in such a way, he figured he at least was content with how he'd managed to tangled himself over his friend. However, instead of voicing the discomfort to find a more suitable position for the both of them, Bruce endured the strain it put onto his body to remain still enough to keep Thor happy. There wasn’t much else he could do for him beyond this at the moment.

Minutes ticked past; their breathing fell into synchronization, Bruce rubbed his hand lazily up and down a small section of Thor’s arm, hummed out a short tune, and rested his head against the couch upon realizing he might be here for some time. Then Thor spoke again, not much louder than previous. “I must confess,” He paused to drag in another shaky breath, Bruce hummed out an encouragement to continue. “I am ill.”

The slightest bit of a laugh caught Bruce with that one. He was nodding as he spoke a quick, “I figured so, it’s more a matter of _  what _  has done this to you.”.

“This is no illness you know, Midgard is no aid to me. I must return to Asgard.”

“Returning will help?”

“I will receive proper care, but the travel I cannot do alone.” Thor stirred, prying his head from it’s resting place on Bruce’s chest, and turning his face up to look him in the eye pleadingly. He was awfully close. “I would much like for you to come with me.” The way he said it made it sound so simple, like a little road trip across states and not a literal space voyage. The chance to refuse lay within grasp, but gentle Banner couldn’t outright tell the poor soul  _ ‘no’ _ .

He frowned a bit, scanning Thor’s features for any sort of trickery and turning out none. “The team...they may need me, especially with you-”

“Please,” Thor shrunk into his chest again, hooded gaze stuck onto Bruce’s own. “ _ please _  come.”

 

“Okay.”

That had been the extent of the prompting he required. Lay blame to his weak resistance for what appeared possibly his only friend, but Bruce simply couldn’t fend off a man so broken, clutching to him like he were the only one able to help - like he was his last chance. Thor relaxed into him upon hearing his agreement with a content expression. Bruce could hardly see past the fact he molded to him like he were made of clay. “Nothing more will be asked of you this day, Banner. That shall be my final request of you.”

“Yeah, Thor, it’s fine. Really, I don’t mind.” He could hardly hear even himself over the thrum of blood rushing his ears. Did he really just agree to travel to another planet so casually? The answer he knew was  _ ‘yes’ _  but the whole wrapping it around his mind part was failing to take place. In fact, it was beginning to tug at the strings of his stress. He could feel the other guy rousing.

 

_ I’m  _ **_not_ ** _  freaking out, I’m just concerned for my friend, That’s all this is. Go back to your cage, it’s still my turn at the wheel. _

 

That appeared to work for the moment, the rattle of metal bars ceased and left the rattle of lungs in its wake. Better but definitely not the best for the situation. One issue at a time. First Thor, then the other guy. Two very different cases, only one of which he wished to be involved with.

 

Through much effort and half a miracle, Bruce aided Thor to his feet - though he swayed them both unsteadily whether taking a step or standing still - and the duo began their trek across the  _ quinjet _  toward where Mjolnir had been abandoned near the exit ramp. Bruce punched in the code as Thor hefted his hammer and the two hurried along out of the ship before any lockdowns could be initiated. They’d left a note on the couch explaining their absence and expected return date, it was brief and to the point, the team would just have to be upset about it at a later time. As Thor and Bruce hobbled along a fair distance from the ship near the edge of the little clearing it sat within, Bruce noticed that Mjolnir seemed to be practically dragging Thor down.

“Are you sure you can raise it on your own?” He feared the answer he would receive, as the god had been adamant on more than one occasion that the hammer could be lifted only by those who are worthy, which plainly spelled that Thor alone could lift the damn thing. If he couldn’t raise it, well there might be no method to get him back to Asgard.

Pulling them to a halt, Thor turned his face skyward as if he were searching for some sort of answer written out among the stars. He was silent. The muscles of his arm tensed as he struggled Mjolnir upwards, managing nearly level with his elbow before it was proving too much for him. Panicking in the slightest, Bruce threw his free arm out and covered as much of Thor’s hand with his own as he could and together they pushed the hammer up above Thor’s head.

 

“ **_Heimdall_ ** ..”

A luminescent circle of streaky, bright color was engulfing them soon enough, feeling as though it had scooped the two up in invisible arms and was sweeping them off. Now that they had left the ground, Thor collapsed into Bruce’s side completely. There was hardly option but to hold him tight and squint up at the rapidly travelling tube transporting them, hoping for a quick delivery.

Certainly it felt like eons, but Bruce rationalized the travel time to be only a few of the Earthen minutes he was accustomed to. The arrival was interesting to say the least; the end of the circle turned dark with a supersonic approach, and Bruce could sense the upcoming entrance was about to be hard so he curled himself around Thor, burying his head into his own chest and drawing his arms as close as he could to their bodies, Bruce had hit first, pinned beneath the entire 200+ lbs of powerless god and skidding across slick flooring until he slammed into the wall opposite the transport. Hurt like a bitch but Thor showed no reaction of being affected. Upon opening eyes, Bruce was brought the sight of a regal appearing man with skin dark as his hair pulling a great sword from some contraption, then rounding on them. His steps covered much ground despite working only at a walk. He was leaning over them, his eyes like liquid gold churning with many emotions as they were flowing across the sight of his prince, snapping up to meet with Bruce’s.

“He just-”

 

“I know.” Assured the man, eyes of rippling gold waves crashing across Bruce for a moment longer, turning over to a brilliantly bright entrance of sorts moments before some sort of people flowed inside, dressed in deep maroon and navy blue robes with golden inscriptions reflecting off of them in the light. They pried Thor from Bruce’s stunned grasp, loading him onto what appeared to be a sort of stretcher and promptly rushing off with him. Bruce could feel himself fall back against the floor beneath him, breathing far too fast for his own good, but he was relieved. “Apologies for the whirlwind of happenings, I saw you coming.” Having caught up on a single few breaths, Bruce allowed the golden man to once again grace his gaze. He’d since straightened but now was offering hand in assistance, which he took gladly. Upon returning to his feet, Bruce took a moment to take in a quick glance of his surroundings, and offer the man a shaky smile in return for his aid.

“Thank you. I-I’m Bruce Banner, I’m a.. _ friend _  of Thor’s.”

“I know.” The golden man repeated, his eyes once again churning a sea of emotions far too fast for Bruce to decipher. “Fear not, friend of Thor, he is now where it is best. He will return to health soon enough.” He began stepping fluidly away from Bruce, moving toward the entrance Thor had been whisked through, extending a hand of silent offer to follow. Accepting the invitation brought Bruce directly before the entrance, clearly gazing out upon the grandest of world’s his mortal eyes had ever landed upon. “I am Heimdall, allow me to welcome you to Asgard, Bruce Banner.”

 

*******

 

“So you’re telling me, this will be the  _ third _  time Thor has contracted this disease?” Bruce sat in a chair far too large for him, feeling as though he were on the brink of being swallowed by it’s plush cushions; and perhaps seated was the best place for him because surely he’d have been absolutely floored had he been standing when the news was offered to him. Heimdall long ago delivered him to the care ward Thor was being housed in for the time; thusly, a conversation with a fair faced female carer adorning the same maroon and navy robes as those who had retrieved Thor at the bifrost had been struck. She had been cluing Bruce in on what was occurring with his friend for a solid hour at this point. Granted, she had much to explain in terms Bruce could comprehend.

Turns out Thor had fallen ill with a disease known as  _ dødelig Syk _ , or mortal sickness. The illness, when contracted by a god, would block the usage of their powers, godly or otherwise. That meant no lighting, no enhanced durability, nothing. Essentially it turned an Asgardian into a Midgardian. The real catch to the disease is that it bears two possible outcomes; either the infected warded off the disease and returned to health stronger than when they had entered, or they wouldn’t be returned at all, they would remain entirely mortal for the rest of their life - which usually lasted until they had hit their 30s, human years. Every Asgardian was expected to contract it at some point in their life, but only once, yet here Thor was on his  _ third _  instance of it. The process of recovery had been explained to him, but it had poured in one ear and leaked out the opposite just as fast.

The carer touched Bruce’s shoulder with the gentlest of fingertips, rousing him from a deep mental discussion he’d apparently decided to indulge in. She had knelt down before him and caught his eyes for quite a striking moment, something crossed her face that he was completely missing by failing to pull his gaze from hers. “Would one care to visit?” Her voice rang like a hundred tiny bells in his ears, enough to have him standing with urgency and desperately nodding as he stared up at her face pleadingly. She couldn’t have possibly lead him along the path to Thor’s lodging fast enough in a million years. Bruce had to constantly mind his step so as to not intrude on her space while she strode along, lengthy legs covering three of Bruce’s strides in one and still not moving quick enough. He was sure he’d end up tearing his jacket in half should he not reach that room within 10 paces. It’s damn lucky he did, for he was also fairly sure he wouldn’t be very fond of Asgardian clothing choices even if they were his final option. Not a moment too soon had the carer swiftly sidestepped and gestured her hand gracefully toward a door, to which Bruce eagerly strode forward and permitted himself entrance. All his nerves were abandoned on the threshold.

The room itself held plain appearance as nothing to find oneself overly fond of, it was practically dismissable in passing as Bruce’s eyes locked onto the friend that lay tucked among the blankets neatly stacked atop him within the bed directly across from the entrance. For a moment, a tightness was choking back Bruce’s voice until nothing but a strange little noise escaped. A strange, elated little noise it was. But what perked Thor’s interest enough for his powder blue eyes to flicker open was Bruce speaking a strained. “H-hey pal. How’s it going?” Without pause for reply, he crossed the room to be at Thor’s side once again, smiling boldly all the while.

The liveliness of the room enhanced the moment Thor had understood who exactly had entered the space, and for that Bruce could only feel pride in himself. Beyond glad he was to be one of the people able to bring joy to Thor’s life, a recently discovered revelation. The two men hesitated but a moment before being engulfed in the other’s arms. It was sudden, but absolutely necessary. “Damn you for having me so worried, Thor. Just.. **_fuck you_ ** .” He was clinging to him as if there were no tomorrow for him, wrinkling his pale blue robes to hell no doubt but it felt as if he were to release him, Thor would tumble into nonexistence.

Likewise, Thor once again was snaking his arms around Bruce’s waist with head buried in chest, clearer chuckles rumbling from his own chest. “It is okay, Banner. You did splendid! I apologise for having worried you, truly.” The sincerity Thor displayed was radiating off of him in waves. It merely caused Bruce to wrangle him in tighter, avoiding responding and having time to just clutch the moment. So much raw emotion was begging to be released from the well Bruce kept, but for the sake of  _ not _  transforming into a green rage monster in the midst of a care ward he left them there. “Apologies also for your being introduced to Asgard under the circumstances, I would have prefered a less frantic arrival for you.” Despite an obvious rasp warping his voice, Thor seemed to already be performing at an increasingly better rate. Had they been a moment later in arriving there was no clear indication his condition would be excelling as such - he very well could have dropped into fatal territory, should the carer’s words be heeded as truth.  The thought found itself plunging from the forefront of Bruce’s mind just as quickly as it had formed there when his friend took swift exit of the embrace to press himself to the edge of the thin bed, leaving room enough for Bruce and then some. Graciously, the unspoken offer was accepted by him slipping onto the space, twisting to face Thor with feet dangling above the floor.

They held a moment of stillness - soft smiles and gently appraising eyes searching the other, for what is unclear. Then Bruce was shaking his head lightly, dipping his gaze to the seam of a blanket he began fiddling with. “It was a bit much, but I managed. I doubt there would have been a better first impression I could have made on your people.” An exhale of half hearted laughter, picking more intensely at the thin cords stringing the blanket together. “Y’know, clinging to you like..” Pausing, his fingers stilled on the seam while those of the opposite hand were snapping together in effort to surface a particular word that escaped his mental grasp. “I’m not even sure what. A….a  _ terrified _  lover..” The statement fell, trailing off to nothing between them. The meaning behind the words appeared muddled to Bruce, who had since returned to busying himself with attempting to unweave the blanket again. He was unsure what point he was intending to address came from saying that but he was eager to forget it swiftly.

 

“Talk of you has reached my ear, even here. You are popular topic.” Thor spoke matter of factly, voice rough but tone tender. Bruce very much wanted to scoff, to say  _ ‘isn’t that always the case?’ _ , he never caught a break even while on alien planets. Always, Bruce Banner would be news of the century wherever he should travel. But it was his turn to be the silent second of a two man conversation. “Asgard elects itself in your debt, Banner. You are more beloved than myself.” And then a hand was ghosting up to swallow the curve of his neck, it’s thumb finding its way to his jaw and tilting his face up to meet Thor’s. The expression etched into his features was a range of emotions - appealing to his pride, a gracious joy, but above all admiration. He was unsure of how to react. “I hear the whispers;  _ ‘Finally to be allowed company with him - the honored warrior Banner - the one our prince Thor has droned on about for these passing years. Finally, to have been graced with his long awaited presence.’ _ .”

“You told them about.. _ me _ ?”

The norse god’s expression brightened in the slightest. “All have heard tale of the Avengers and their Midgardian ventures, but of them none is more famed than Banner. Above all others he is favored, alongside his green companion as well. They are highly honored heroes. Fans of his have put forth proposals of marriage, some even being on my own behalf.”

Eyes growing wide in surprise, Bruce drew up his arms quickly and made to curl into himself, said arms crossed tight over his chest as his face stung with pinpricks of heat. “Oh. That’s, uh, nice.” Was the extent of what he could breathe out in response. By far he’d gone too flustered, his whole face would be swamping green embarrassment.

“Anticipation of a wedding ceremony arrived with us, for none beyond these walls have been informed of my ailment.”

Bruce hesitated a moment, brows pinching together at the center as he contemplated that. Would they be informed at all? Perhaps not, to reveal such weakness of a royal might spell ill will running rampant. “Well..what  _ do _  they know?”

“That I arrived through the bifrost cradled in your arms and that you have been seen only for the briefest of times not at my side.”

 

Untangling his arms and bringing his hands to shield his face from view, Bruce groaned deeply. “All of Asgard thinks you and I are fucking..worse they think we’re getting married!” He groaned again, much more exaggerated this time, and Thor offered a squeeze of the shoulder. “Thor,  _ Jesus _ \- “

“Banner, truly this is not the most terrible of situations! While not necessarily ideal, it provides enough excuse to cover my absence to the public until I am well again.” He was pleading again, dammit.

“So you’re  _ encouraging _  the idea of them believing we’re fucking? What will we say once you’re better?  _ ‘Sorry for the wait, we were preoccupied with single handedly providing the royal bloodline it’s next three generations.’  _ ? Thor-”

“Does the idea displease you so?”

 

Bruce put a pause to his ranting, eyes flicking over to meet Thor’s, his mouth undecided if it had a retort or not as it swayed between parted and snapped shut. The god’s voice was so level in tone, but terribly dwarfed by Bruce’s own. He spoke so gentle one found great difficulty in understanding what was said, or even why. Eyes pooling the questions his lips refused to release, Bruce leaned away from Thor’s touch and continued to fail communicating the words stuck in his throat.

 

**_What?_ **

 

“Do you find yourself upset at the idea at being believed to..fuck me? Never was my intention to be in this situation, I….If such a thing is too much for you, my friend..perhaps returning to Mi- Earth would be proper at this time. Heimdall shall escort you home. I’m sorry to have put you in such a standing.” Thor’s pale eyes flickered dull, gazing hard at a single focal point of Bruce’s face before abruptly turning to stare off toward a wall as Thor removed his hand from his shoulder and laid himself in position to rest. A physical cut off of their conversation.

Bruce found himself hesitating while perched on the edge of the bed, a hand having shot up to hover over Thor’s arm, twitching in the slightest as his brain centered on what course of action he was pursuing.  _ His _  intention wasn’t to upset, he couldn’t quite put a solid explanation to why he’d figured such a fuss over thoughts that held no effect on his life whatsoever. But he had. And here he was paying for those ill put words. The hand trembled lightly as it touched the other’s arm, as if it were afraid to fully establish a contact between them again. “I..feel better, Thor.” Then Bruce was slipping from the edge of the bed and dropping to his feet, rounding on the door across the room and hurriedly pacing towards it. Strides were swifter than the ones that had prior carried him into the room, but this time they were not fast enough to get him  _ away _  from here. Upon reaching his exit and taking the golden handle in his hand, the last comment Thor offered him was thrown his direction.

 

“Goodbye, Bruce.”

He exited as quickly - as quietly - as possible, refusing to allow himself a last glance towards Thor with the door clicking behind him. Leaving behind not a trace of himself within the room, instead having unintentionally stolen a shatter of Thor’s heart with him in his pocket.

 

*******

 

The Asgardian sky was twisting round in grotesque shapes far beyond the imagination of a Midgardian, having fallen victim to a terrible gloom that almost certainly warned of fierce rains to come in unseen hours. Cracks of lightning occasionally split the gray clouds in flashes of loud white while distant thunder growled in approach - being quite the disturbance toward an otherwise calmed time. The atmosphere felt too well timed, considering the fact Thor still lay in the care ward with naught in his godly power reserve. It felt as though Thor himself had caused it. But it fell as background against the looming skyscrapers and inhumanly lissome Asgardian people, all conspiring together to force Bruce into feeling like the absolute most insignificant of beings to have had the misfortune of finding themself alive. Entirely he was dwarfed, as even the children who sprinted past seemed to overshadow him. Dodging and weaving meant little in terms of blending in when you stuck out as such an eyesore in such a beautiful place. Even so, whispers clearly followed every city block he trekked, no matter the effort he put forth to keep his head down and pace sleek. The words spoken were lost to him, but if he knew anything of himself it would be that he was a fairly entertaining topic to discuss, especially if he were standing within earshot.

Although open discussion of himself currently was ongoing mere feet from where he was slipping through masses of bodies, Bruce by far was more concerned with his own head to pay a cent of attention to the Asgardians surrounding him. Standing boldly at number 1 on his list of growing troubles definitely would be Thor and his health even after the episode they’d just experienced. The risk of his condition had been extensively discussed, and by the looks of it, there was significant chance Thor would not be returning to his godly status. Multiple instances of contracting the  _ dødelig Syk  _ lessened the chances of fending it off well enough to be restored with powers as the illness itself only continued to gain strength as it’s time in the host was prolonged. To say if Thor perhaps  _ did _  fail to ward it off, he would live only 400 or so more years as opposed to 4,600. And never again would he be fit for battle, nor throne. He would be exiled by the royal family and the crown granted to the next in line -  _ fucking Loki _ . A shitshow waiting to happen, no doubt. The poorest - most selfish - outcome of a premature death would be for Bruce, however; the man, in essence, cannot die so the passing of his likely longest living friend would be utter devastation so soon. He’d be lying if he were to say he wouldn’t miss him dearly. Dearly, like  _ ‘a terrified lover’ _ . Fuck, he’d be trying to forget that line for the next millennium at bare minimum. Especially so after having put thought into the  **why**  of its origin out of his mouth. Being humble, being anxious, it forced Bruce to overthink and under assume; at every turn he has to wonder if he really has “fallen in love” with any person who’s ever been the slightest bit kind to him in passing, and at those same turns he rationalizes any person being kind to him simply wants something from him. He wants to hope, but he knows fairly well that putting your hope too far into something almost guarantees it will not happen. He’s never been one to assume he could  _ ever _  spark someone's attraction, and that has only ingrained deeper still into him as years have passed. Had he amused himself with a small thought of ‘perhaps’ with Thor?  **Absolutely** . Never had he connected the whimsical ‘if’ to reality; translated the messages from fantasy and real and cross checked those little gestures as more than over analytical observation. He knows how he feels about Thor - he respects him, but he also is completely infatuated in the most secret of manners with the norse god. He is a terrible liar, this much is true, but by not accepting his own feelings and instead locking them in that well, Bruce was able to escape the creeping attraction to his friend.  _ Goddamn _ . So few years had he held back but still the lock on the well had corroded itself weak. The lid would fling open in a matter of time and all will turn green, at least he won’t be required to face the embarrassment when the other guy takes the wheel. Simply sit back and wallow in the regret pooling out from the well’s top.

But Bruce Banner is just that - Bruce Banner. In any circumstance beyond scientific, he is entirely unamusing; how would he have  _ ever _  admitted to practically his  _ only _  friend that he was crushing hard nearly since the moment they had met? Like some teenager? Just knowing his own luck, the act would have driven a wedge between he and Thor that would prove most impossible to remove. Then he’d be all alone again.

Of course,  **now**  he would no longer need to worry over such things. Thoroughly he had skewed his treasured friendship in the span of a conversation. He  _ is _  alone again, he’s driven off his only friend by being frightened of his own feelings - his own love for the damn man. A love that is twisted and not right because he  _ shouldn’t _  love, a love sending him back to Earth where he belongs because he respects Thor and can’t bear to face him after such an ordeal. He would’ve never told him anyways. How could he begin to explain this to him? That he was afraid to be thought of as his partner because he didn’t want the truth to become suspicion. Couldn’t risk what they had for the slight possibility of what could have been. They were good how they were, they were fine, why did this have to happen? All because Bruce was afraid the idea might disgust  **_Thor_ ** .

Had it not been for his already having lost track of where his feet carried him, he would have promptly returned to the bifrost and sent himself back to his home without a second thought to the matter. Thor had told him to leave, and he intended to do so, once he found the way himself. Drawing more attention by asking for directions to the only exit point simply was not on his list of things to do. Though he wouldn’t be participating in Thor’s lie, there still was no sense in bringing about more unnecessary issues for him to sort out. His  _ ‘groom’ _  being spotted skipping out just as quick as he had arrived would certainly spark gossip.

“ _ Fair Banner! _ ” A voice of a hundred tiny bells, gently baiting his attention into stilling his feet upon the walk path. A wash of relief poured over him as Bruce craned around to confirm the fair faced carer from before had been the one to have located him, he mustered up a pitiful smile for her. Her long legs ate the ground separating them with ease til she pulled level with him on the walk, beaming a beautiful smile of her own. “Fair Banner.” She began again, taking a slight moment to adjust both her hands to the strap of her messenger bag. “Forgiveness is asked for a meddling mind, but whatever is one chasing when their beloved lies in the ward?” Her dark eyebrows knitted together and soared up her forehead, piqued in interest yet plagued with concern, irises of smoldering coals once again ensnaring his own gaze and holding it hostage.

Bruce felt his fingers fluttering against the edge of his coat and his breathing take pause enough for the thrum of blood to be drowning his hearing. “I just- uh, Thor has a bit of business he’s tending, I just was taking a little walk until he’s done.” He’s a horrible liar, here's hoping the Asgardians are just as poor in perception skills. An afterthought struck Bruce then, which had him sloppily tacking on a stuttery “B-beloved, sure, mm-hm.” to the end of his finished part to the conversation.   

The carer appeared giddy, body surging a bit taller in elation. “Business! Such as the festivities? For the wedding? Many are abuzz with anticipation of such a gathering, surely you are as well.”

“I-I can’t really say, y’know?”  Bruce brought his hands up to his stomach and began wringing them together - fidgeting enough to keep both himself and his lie in motion. His answer vague as it was, seemed only to encourage.

“Ah! So it is true! Worry not, fair Banner, news shall not ferry from my lips. But one must also ask, why if only to have gone for a short while is the fair Banner so far? Has one lost their way? Mustn’t their beloved worry for them?”

There was the end of his poorly weaved net of lie. He was floundering now. “I- you know, I was actually..” Voice catching into a tangle of sound but lacking proper words halted in his throat, he choked it down, coughed. “I’m leaving.” Bruce straightened his posture and jutted his jaw out sternly, fingernails biting into the flesh of his palms until the sting died out. It all was a front, of course, as within himself the doctor heard a stifled gasp of a sob.

His carer companion stooped with an analytical intent nearer toward his face; Bruce steeled against her gaze. “So wishes the fair Banner?” A jerk of a nod,  _ so wishes the fair banner _ . “One must allow for the path to be lead, then. Exit exists backward of the world spin. Come, direction is certain with this one.”

 

No further conversation was made. Bruce had no more to say to anyone, really. His companion, he’s not quite sure what she’s currently thinking as not even her gait is displaying any inkling of emotion. Indifference radiates from her sweet figure as if she had shed her cloak of excitement and what had to be disappointment far back along the walk in favor of simply performing task. She reminds him of Natasha, but with a kinder face. Her robes are billowing enough at her pace that Bruce is quite obscured from view while trailing behind her, very much like a lost puppy only wishing to again find home. They’d trotted along for quite some time through the streets - enough for Bruce to be quite embarrassed he’d allowed the kind soul to turn herself right around and march back the direction she had been travelling opposite of - until the golden designs of building began transforming back into more recognizable ones. Venturing back into the familiar could only mean they were closing in on the care ward, which struck the unshakeable wondering of exactly how close they were to the place for Bruce. The doctor within pleaded with his feet to carry him in to just check, just a moment to confirm the recovery of the patient. A final moment that wasn’t a disagreement, something he could look back to when he remembered the friendship that once was that didn’t left his mouth awash with bitterness. With each stride, Bruce only found himself slacking behind the long legged carer he’d been so well keeping pace with until now. The urgency to be dismissed homeward was subsiding. It withdrew itself from his mind silently and was gradually replaced by a new, much more compelling task.

Bruce shook his head, hopping into a light jog that subtracted the distance between he and she, catching the carer’s clothed elbow in a feathery grasp. Without pause she had turned to him, questioning in gaze but lips sealed tight. Their pace had slowed considerably until comparable with a slither down the walk. “Can we see Thor? Please, before we go.” Hardly had the words rushed past his lips before Bruce had his teeth sinking into the inside of his lips, hands returning to their wringing at his stomach. His mind split down the middle; half in disarray at his  _ idiotic _  decision, the other rejoicing for it. A beat of consideration, then something in her expression melted away until she bore the slightest of smiles, quietly nodding as she returned to her leading gait across the walk, Bruce directly at her heels again.

Honest to word, she lead them true and delivered Bruce back to the ward with a swiftness. If he had a moment to distract his mind from the task at hand, he’d have wondered if this had been her intended destination since the beginning. Asking would be rude. No hesitation slowed her pressing her way through the entrance doorway and briskly striding across the lobby to escort him once again to Thor. As they walked, she would peek back at him every few seconds, the same slight smile holding its place on her face each time. For whatever reason it was equally worrying as it was relieving. It felt as though she were checking to ensure he hadn’t ditched the idea entirely and made a break for it when her back was turned. Which, let’s be completely truthful here, he had considered at least 6 times already.

Instead of pacing herself too slow for Bruce, this time his guide was travelling much faster than he cared for. Yes, he needed -  _ wanted  _ \- to see Thor but not so quickly. His mind was still reeling from the decision to visit again, he certainly was not prepared to strut into that room so soon. The door loomed like a fright in the corner during sleep paralysis - fast approaching when he wished it would just stay where it was. Mirroring the first instance, the carer tugged him along until abruptly sidestepping and gracefully gesturing to the door she stood next to, coal dark eyes expectant as observing his slowed approach. Bruce stalled himself feet from the door, busying himself far too much with pacing his breathing and smoothing stubborn nonexistent wrinkles from his sweater before officially deciding to approach. All the while, the carer stood stockstill and observed, no look of judgement in her expression as far as he could tell from the hidden glances up to her. A surge of confidence stepped him the rest of the way up to the door where his hand flinched up as a natural response to knock. The course was forced to avert down to the handle instead, making his entrance was just as quiet as his prior exit.

Upon stepping in, the sight of Thor exactly in the manner he had been left startled Bruce. It had been quite some time since last he’d been present, was the refusal to move intentional? Curious as it was, there was reason for his being here that demanded it be tended to. As such, he quickly retraced his steps until having returned to the bed’s edge. This time he didn’t sit, but instead reached his arm across and replaced his hand to Thor’s own arm. The muscles tensed instantly, Thor then turned his head over to catch glimpse of what fool decided it was an absolute grand plan to have touched him. King of fools himself stood before him but little reaction was offered after the discovery. Something in his eyes though, danced behind half open lids.

Bruce drew in a deep breath and flashed a weak smile for him. “Surprise.” He breathed out upon exhale. His hand twitched over arm at a lack of response. “I uh- might I sit?” Thor’s eyes flashed down to the space of bed that he had earlier occupied before returning to Bruce’s face - as close to an acceptance he would receive, he supposed. The chance was leaped upon, and Bruce hopped over the edge carefully. Having helped himself atop the mattress again, he folded his hands into his lap, gaze flickering across the god’s face before him. “Listen,” He began, voice small and feeling even smaller. “I’m sorry. I don’t know- well I do know -  _ why _  I reacted like that but it's not something I can easily explain to you. You have to hear me out, okay? Then you can, you can send me off or whatever you’d like, but you have to listen first.”

A part of Bruce took note of the exhausted features decorating Thor’s face he seemed to have bypassed before drawing close, blindness be damned; he seemed worse off than when he had left, and that was worrisome, terribly unfocused eyes enhanced by the ever darkening circles below them and chapped lips parted for air, skin gone sallow. A grunt was the reply he caught, fair enough. Bruce began his spiel, trying his best to focus his thoughts and convey them comprehensively. “You’re my friend, I’ve known you for nearly 3 years now and it’s been great, you’re great. But for just as long..well. Okay just, look, I am not an emotional man for very obvious reasons. I take everything I feel and I store it, I don’t look into it because I try to keep myself as black and white as possible to avoid the green.” His hands were gesturing vaguely, truly attempting to aid in the message deliverance. Thor remained silent, observing. “But with you, Thor it's just all  _ gray _ . Every bit of it. You make me, I dunno, you make me feel like a fucking terrified lover. You make me feel things I forgot existed in me. Just- since the first day I met you, I knew you were going to be fucking  _ amazing _ , you needed time to make it happen. I fell - hard. For.. _ you _ . The you I knew you could be. You’ve come so far and every day it gets harder for me because I don’t know  **how**  to handle..all this.” A burning in his eyes made Bruce pause, he hadn’t even been aware of the tough knot building in his throat, obscuring his voice into a series of cracked words. He laughed, a bit bewildered and rubbed the heel of his hands into his eyes trying to rid them of the tears building there before they fell. “You see what you do to me?” A broken half smile worked its way into his embarrassed expression as he turned his eyes back over to Thor.

For a moment he was fairly convinced this whole confession was doing little more for him than digging a deeper grave to lie, and die, in. Then with movements slowed with fatigue, Thor turned himself over onto his back and struggled himself up onto an elbow, powder blue eyes stilled on Bruce. He ghosted his hand up Bruce’s arm to the curve of his neck and propped his thumb beneath his jaw, keeping his face turned toward himself. Forever it took for him to actually speak, only a few gravelly words. “I understand. Could we-” He paused, having no choice as Bruce took the opportunity of a surge of confidence to lean himself across the empty bed space and press the smallest of kisses to his lips. What broke them apart was a static charge electrifying between them, more of a startle than a pain. The exchange was brief - enough to get the point across - leaving Bruce satisfied with the extent he’d managed to push himself in the span of time. He’d recoiled half the space, hands balling into fists around the several blankets covering the bed, looking to Thor with an apologetic face. Thor’s own face split into a slight grin. “It’s rude to interrupt, I was asking a question. May I continue?”

Intentionally pondering the simple question as if his life depended on it, Bruce looked off around the room as if searching for the answer hidden in plain decorating skills, humming a thoughtful tune in his chest before offering an eventual ‘yes’. Thor accepted it graciously. “As I was saying then; could we count this as an official marriage proposal? I’ve been attempting to court you for a year now, this seems the best time to admit it.”

Bruce reeled backward, he face screwing up into a look of utter confusion. “The fuck do you mean?”

“That..I’ve been courting you? For a year? Did you not notice?”

 

_ Fucking  _ **_no_ ** .

“I- I mean I  _ wondered _  but I don’t like to make assumptions.”

“Bruce Banner,” Thor splayed a hand across his thigh, giving light pats to stress his words. “I have actually told you I love you on several occasions, are you being completely serious?”

Bruce shrugged his shoulders, eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you meant, y’know, like the friend way.”

“ _ Odin’s fucking beard _ .” Thor’s face dropped into his hand and remained there for several minutes like a silent shaming of Bruce’s inability to recognize someone actively pursuing him every waking moment for a year. Though eventually he resurfaced, propping is face onto that same hand now. “I am very glad courting happens only once, because I’m quite sure it would kill me to do it again. Especially with you.”

“ _ Excuse me _ , but humans tend to be more blunt with their feelings. You could have just asked me out and avoided all of this.”

“I am a god, I do not have time for your petty human doings.”

“But you have time for a year long courtship?”

 

Thor scoffed, though his smile returned with a vengeance across his tired face, he reclined back into his pillows with both hands resting on his stomach. “For you? Absolutely. It seems to have went well, all things considered.” A shaky breath, a suppressed cough and repositioning a bit deeper into the bed. “Only a regret of allowing this to be how it came about as discussion is found; here where I am most certainly ill and unlikely to recover.”

“ _ Don’t _ .” Bruce groaned, head lolling as if to dislodge the statement from within. “Don’t say that, you’re going to be fine.” His hand fluttered up to clasp itself atop both of Thor’s, squeezing in what he tried to pass as a reassuring manner. “We’re going to fix you up and we’ll do the marriage ceremony and then we’ll go home and..well it’ll be different but it’ll be good!”

“Are you sure? I’m sure the circumstances have been explained to you, and you have already done the math. There is fair chance that I may not come out on top this time. And to put you in position with the marriage again-”

Another squeeze of the hands, dark brown eyes running over Thor’s face once again. He’d interjected fast, tone stable. “Thor, I want to, m’kay? I’m sure of it all. Of course being married is..a  _ little _  fast for me, but I’ll deal with it. Besides, what better first test is there than having me doctor you? If I can handle you  _ this _  sick, we’ll be golden.” A teasing laugh escaped to the air separating them, filling the atmosphere with an inkling more warmth, more comfort. Bruce lessened to gripping one of Thor’s hands, working his way around until they sat palm to palm and he could lift it up to deposit a sparky kiss to the back and promptly return it to its resting place. He pushed himself off of the bed and landed gingerly to his feet, walking the edge of the bed until he was at the foot, he paused to look back to Thor. “If we ever are going to get you back to yourself, we’re going to need to give it our all. I’ll call over a nurse and see how I can help.”

His steps already began carrying him to the door, his back turned now to Thor, but certainly Bruce caught the words that were said barely above a whisper. Instantly upon hearing them his head held higher and a broad smile came across him, satisfaction after so long waiting such a moment coursing through him. If they were meant to go unheard remained in question.

 

“ _ I love you _ .”

 

*******

 

Perhaps he were quick to judge the olden clothing styles of the Asgardian people before; his Midgardian western influence had left him wrongly prefrent toward his dress slacks and jackets, the whole prim and proper appearance aspect of the look worn deep into his brain until anything less than such was practically naked and improper. True, a fair portion of the alien dress style was long and drapey made of finely decorated fabrics and a few odd fixations all in the name of intricate, delicate detail - the only deriving of such course being in terms of armor like that of Loki or the Einherjar, regal and dressy yet still functional without hassle of shedding or adding layers, often featuring rad capes. Bruce had agreed to adorn a navy robe that was hurriedly hemmed to fall past his knees instead of to the floor and then some, the waist of which was threaded with a shimmering gold cord he kept hanging loose and shoulders connected with small, interlocking golden hoops - but that was only for the time it took for his own clothes to be washed. That had been 2 weeks prior. Thor still had leveled out into the most concerning low at the point and Bruce had abandoned the fight of clothing in favor of caring for the prince round clock. The clothing he had worn upon arrival lay forgotten beneath Thor’s bed since their return to himself. Instead, Bruce had opted to remain in the Asgardian wear. And though this he would likely not admit aloud, he felt it brought him closer to being accepted a true Asgardian while here, and Thor seemed proud of the change. His confidence soared greatly following the breaking from his ‘pants preferred’ mindset and allowed for much more extravagant outfits to have been worn; which certainly was no poor happening, as it allowed for him to adorn a much striking, traditional marriage ceremony robe with ease. Of course,  _ that _  had been 3 days prior, and still his head was abuzz with the elation carrying over from the entire event.

The wedding itself was an overtly traditional happening, but in the most lavish of manners. The allfather, Odin, presided over the handfasting with much grace and an expression consisting solely of solemness - Bruce swears he caught glimpse of a tear welling up in his uncovered eye at the conclusion. If it were entirely possible, it appeared as if the whole of Asgard had attended the event. The halls of the palace grew clustered through both body and voice very soon after entrance was permitted, and so many faces had approached to offer their congratulations and touch the two newly weds. From fingertips to head both men were showered in various touches and holds and kisses from the Asgardians in attendance, the only space void of contact where resided their newly adorned rings. Breaking from tradition in the slightest, Thor had convinced identical golden rune rings inscribed in Asgardian dialect to be granted to them, though they were placed to their right’s index as opposed to the Midgardian left ring finger adornment. Higher above against their biceps sat their oath rings, constructed of three thick golden cords spiraling one another and fashioned to curve around any section of arm, one section of which left open to shape them as incomplete circles. A bit of trickery had bled into these sacred objects as well, powerful enchantments granted by Frigga to ensure durability as well as flexibility; given Bruce’s tendency to morph into a  _ much _  larger man at a moment’s notice and Thor’s own reckless behaviors. Merely it was precaution.

A ploy of planning the ceremony excused away both Bruce and Thor’s absence without much issue. Not a word slipped of the  _ dødelig Syk _ , no one beyond Odin, Frigga, and the select carers having healed Thor knew of the happening. Much of the recovery time was spent in silent worry for Bruce, who truly began to wonder if they ever could ward off a disease that only worsened by passing days. He was reassured that one must fall to the lowest point before climbing to health again, but it did little to relieve his conscious until  _ he _  had observed signs of improvement. But once Thor began the steep return to health, he hadn’t slowed, he excelled from his low until again he was his godly self in the quickest of manners. The revelation had come to Bruce late, as he had been ushered off to a bath beforehand and was yet set to return to the room. In fact, he’d taken to reclining in the spacious tub with eyes closed nearly until he was fast asleep -  _ until _ , that is, the entrance of another startled him into alertness, only coming to find a grinning Thor sat across from him. The scare was price enough to have him back to health.

 

Heimdall stood poised before them both, a hand clasping either on a shoulder with eyes churning in fondness above a farewell grin. He was the last to see them off for their return to Midgard and seemingly was the one least pleased to be seeing them go. “An honor to have allowed Asgard to have housed you, Bruce Banner. Even more so to call you one of its people. Should you ever wish to return, I’ll know.” He chuckled lowly, offering a squeeze of his hand before turning to Thor. “And to you, a fair congratulations for managing to wed such an honored savior. Be well.” Heimdall patted Thor’s shoulder then retreated to his post, hands clasping his sword as he initiated the bifrost’s returning venture for them. Bruce waved as he was lead forward by the hand, watching behind himself until the streaky circle of luminescent colors completely skewed his view. A sense of longing tugged at his heart now that they were well on their way home, dressed as they once were during arrival with only their marriage rings the notable difference. Leaving Asgard was difficult as he’d grown quite attached in the short span of time spent there. The people, well, they  _ actually _  liked him, other guy and all. Returning to Midgard was not an idea he found himself overly fond of.

No words were exchanged - it felt more a time to mourn the loss of living upon Asgard - not until feet planted firm to the sidewalk out front of the Avengers tower. Bruce squinted up at the building against the glare of sun, breathing out what was meant to be part of a laugh. “Only good thing about coming back is the fact I’ll have my glasses again.”

To his left, Thor nodded to himself. “Certainly it stands nothing against Asgard, but our duty is protecting this place. Come, our friends anticipate our return.” Then they were striding over the stairs and pressing through the glass entrance doors, granted access and greeting by the cool voice of  _ JARVIS  _ immediately. The system prompted an elevator to the common room floor far above, sliding the doors open silently as they approached at pace rivalled only by a snail’s then transporting them up.

As silent as they were closing, the elevator’s doors returned to open and permitted them exit, which Bruce accepted begrudgingly due to Thor splaying an ushering hand against the small of his back to guide them along. The first interactions came quick when they together rounded into the seating area. Natasha had been the eyes to spy them first, glancing up from a tablet in one hand and pausing the opposite in Clint’s short hair, cocking an eyebrow up. “Oh looky, boys. A couple of ghosts.” Steve peered over the top of a book, nodded in their general direction, then went on with his own task. Clint turned his head to the side in Natasha’s lap, then worked himself quickly into a sitting position. He smiled slightly, standing. “The dead rise again, everything okay now?”

A glance was exchanged between Bruce and Thor, to which they too smiled. The former nodded in confirmation. “The situation is handled, and then some.”

Clint’s brows furrowed at that, looking between the two faces for answers to the questions he hadn’t voiced. He twisted back to Natasha, tapped the top of her tablet, signed something then returned again. “What do you mean- what does he mean?”

This time Thor was responding, flashing his right arm in the slightest while his other remained resting against Bruce’s back. “As it happens, we were married following my recovery.” As well to the showing of the oath ring around his bicep, he folded down all but his index finger to draw eyes to the rune ring settled there. Clint’s eyes ran over both several times as if he expected them to vanish at any moment. This announcement piqued the other two’s attention again as both looked past their respective doings to stare in disbelief at their teammates.

“  _ ‘As it happens’ _ ? You- you’re telling me you went  _ away _  to get patched up and you come back  _ married _ ? What the fuck. W-what’s next, Bruce is pregnant?” His quick, exacerbated rambling abruptly halted, eyes growing a bit wider. He turned his voice down to practically a whisper. “You’re not..right?”

 

An interjection from Tony rounding into the room from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne clutched in his hands put pause onto any sort of retort that could have been offered to that question. “Mr. and Mr. Banner I presume? Good to see you, how was the honeymoon?” He strutted along until loitering practically between Bruce and Thor, and Clint, looking expectantly towards Bruce as if to encourage him to flush green in embarrassment.

“You knew?”

“Knew..what?” Tony looked to Clint as if he were spinning a riddle he couldn’t quite be bothered to unravel himself.

“That they were getting married?”

The expression turned deeper into confusion, underlying with shock. A deafening pop and the rocketing of the champagne cork across the room drew attention to the liquid as it began bubbling from the neck and down Tony’s bare arm. He’d looked sharply over to Bruce and Thor, quickly recovering and reacting to the champagne pooling to the ground. “Is he joking? Cause I would have aimed this at his head if he was.”

Bruce’s hand was grabbing at the back of his neck own in an instant, eyes darting across the room in search of anything solid to lock onto before settling for the bottle Tony held. “I- uh, surprise? Its  **_Dr_ ** . and Mr. Banner, anyways.” He glanced over to Thor who appeared quite amused with the whole situation, face softening just from the sight of his joy at the confusion.

“Well shit. I was just fucking with you, I didn’t bring any glasses so everyone gather around and take a swig from the bottle.”

Natasha hopped up at that, striding over and claiming the bottle before lightly dancing off back to Clint with it pressed to her lips. She handed it off to him with a pat to the back and a wink. With how fried he looked, it seemed the bottle were in the right hands cause he’d need it to come to terms with this whole mess. The poor guy. He collapsed back into the cough with the champagne clutched close to his chest, staring off into nothingness with an expression of naught.

“Or we can do that, thanks Romanoff. We were having a moment.”

Out of the blue, Steve lent his voice to the conversation. “Champagne or no, I’d like to congratulate you two. I’m glad you’re able to be happy in these new times together. Maybe it’ll encourage some others to do the same, maybe even let me be an uncle.” His blue eyes slipped over to Tony, brows angled high in telling. Of course, Tony scoffed as if they’d been through this spiel before, rolling his eyes and seizing the chance to make a swift exit while he still could.

“Thanks, guys, really means a lot. But I’m fucking exhausted, I’m tapping out.” Bruce reached over to pat Thor on the arm and turned from his lingering hold on his back, trekking across the floor with little haste and even less energy. He’d already begun to tune out the happenings around him out of concentration of managing to reach his room before collapsing. All he knew was he was walking, then suddenly he was airborne and hefted into a firm warmth. Peeking past his eyelids with the last of his energy, Bruce was able to identify the mass as Thor, to which he hummed a short, appreciative tone deep in his chest before leaning into him and finally resting for the first time in nearly 3 weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> questions, comments, & concerns can be sent to my [tumblr](https://nomurk.tumblr.com), anon is welcome.


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